


Riptide

by Crollalanza



Series: Chikara/Keiji series [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-14 23:11:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3429008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Akaashi Keiji, Bokuto Koutarou was the type of player and Captain that took hold of the game, and your life, with all the force of a fierce current, carrying everyone along in his wake.<br/>Now he's gone,  Keiji feels he's treading water, waiting for the next riptide in his life to bat him back to shore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aretama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aretama/gifts).



> This is for Alexa (electricprince) for her birthday because she introduced me to the beauty that is Akaashi Keiji and Ennoshita Chikara. She's also a wonderful artist and her DaiSuga gives me life. 
> 
> Oh, and Bokuto can't spell, please bear that in mind :D.

The ride from school wasn’t a great distance, and late afternoon meant he just escaped the peak time for commuters returning home, so Akaashi Keiji found a seat on the bus with no trouble, and stared out of the window, concentrating hard on not thinking.

_“You’re skipping both school and practise?”_

He didn’t think about how he was skipping practise. He refused to dwell on the fact that as Captain he should have done more than mumble a half-hearted excuse to the manager and then taken off. And he closed his eyes to block out her hand on his shoulder, telling him that was fine, and that she’d make his apologies because she could tell it was important.

It shouldn’t have been important.

But it was.

_“He’s not your captain anymore.”_

“Shut the fuck up!” he growled at the furious voice in his head, then stared out the window when the old lady across the aisle glared at him.

 

***

 

_The way to deal with the riptide is not to battle against it, but to swim with it. Do not take on the current, swim parallel to the shore, embracing its power. Or else allow yourself to tread water because the surge is shortlived, and will pass as swiftly as it came. _

_The swimmer might find they’re in a different place from where they started, but they’re then in a position to summon for help, or make their own way back to shore._

**_‘Oya!’_ **

Jerking out of the contemplation of his geology homework, Keiji’s eyes flickered to the chat box that had just opened. He grinned, delighted by the interruption, and something inside him flipped over in his stomach.

**‘Bokuto, hi there, how are you?’**

**_‘im cool. hows the team?’_ **

Keiji snorted at the predictability because Bokuto always asked after the team first, before talking about himself, and way before he got around to asking how things were with school. 

 **‘The team is good,’** Keiji tapped out, playing along. **‘We’ve got a practise match against Shinzhu coming up. How’s university?’**

**_‘fine.  hows onaga doing? Practising hard i hope.’_ **

Keiji leant forwards, narrowing his eyes. **‘He’s doing well.’**   He paused before continuing. **‘His cross court spiking’s improved and there’s a lot more power there. ’**

**_‘shaping up to be the Ace huh?’_ **

**‘Mmm, yes, not as good as you, of course, but then you had to go and graduate, didn’t you?’**

**_‘sorry. Not my fault tho i thought id be kept back a year’_ **

**‘Uh ... that was a joke, you daft owl.’**

**_‘yea.  hey tell onaga to try narrower angles’_ **

**‘I will.’**

**_‘ Akaashi?_ ’**

**‘Yes.’**

**_‘u know when u get to nationals, im coming to watch u.’_ **

He said ‘when’, every time. It didn’t seem to have entered Bokuto’s head that with last year’s team gone, Fukurodani might struggle. Sure, they were still strong. A championship school attracted the best, and the new crop of first years were promising, but it was blending them that was the problem. A clash of talent against time, the currents from the past threatening to tug them all under.  And Keiji feared that he didn’t have the temperament to inspire them. Not like Bokuto had.

_Phringgg. Phringgg._

Huh? Oh ...  Skype call. Seeing a familiar and very welcome name, he quickly clicked accept. “Hey!”

A boy sitting on a sofa appeared, raising a hand as if to wave, then sheepishly putting it down when he remembered he was holding an apple.  “Keiji, how’s it going?”

“Uh ... fine.  What’s up?”

“Not much. Just got back from practise, house is empty, so thought I’d see if you were around.  Did you finish that essay?”

“Geology?  Nope, still doing it. I’ve got the weekend. ” His eyes flicked down to the chat with Bokuto, noticing he was typing. Unless he’d left something unsent, and wandered off, which had happened before now. 

 **‘ _IF_ we qualify, you can have a front row seat,’** he typed, hitting send just as Bokuto’s message came through.

**_‘Were r u?’_ **

**‘Sorry, Skype call.’**

**_‘who’_ **

**‘Ennoshita.’**

**_‘o ill leave you then.’_ **

**‘No you don’t have to.’** He typed, but Bokuto had logged off.

“Damn!”

“What’s up?”

“Ah, sorry, Bokuto was messaging me. He’s gone.”

“Bad connection?” Chikara asked, _looking_ sympathetic, but it was often hard to tell with Chikara exactly what was going through his head. Not like Bokuto, whose every emotion screamed across his face

_Would be better if he Skyped me.That way, I’d know ..._

“Uh, yeah, possibly,” he replied, and shook his head in order not to dwell on it. “How are you, anyway?”

“Uh...”  Chikara ran one hand through his hair, dislodging his headphones, and laughed ruefully. “Tired. Being captain is ... _hard_.”

“Ha, yeah, don’t I know it!” Keiji grinned at Chikara, liking the fact that Chikara smiled back almost immediately. His smile lit him up, the perpetual sleepy expression banished. His eyes would crinkle at the sides, Keiji could see that on the screen so clearly, and he’d look different, confident, and not at all like the faltering boy, he’d made stumbling conversation with on the last day of training camp.

“You at least had a year of being vice,” Chikara was protesting.

Keiji flapped his hand. “Not this again!”

“And you were a starting player!”

“Hey, stop with the self-pity! Captains aren’t allowed that.”

Chikara fixed him with a look, a brooding look, that one time would have made Keiji pause, but now he smirked again. 

“It’s not self pity,” Chikara mumbled.

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow, and shot an intense expression back at Chikara.

Something in the face staring at him changed. Keiji wasn’t sure what had happened, but Chikara’s expression lightened, as if something had flipped in his head, and he grinned, this time ruefully. “Okay, it is a bit. But you’ve got to admit, being vice captain must have given you an advantage.”

“Not really. I was more of a Captain-handler. Bokuto antithesis – bit like you and Tanaka. We’re the damage controllers, don’t you think?” Keiji stifled a yawn. He was about to mention the loss of the team, but that did sound like self-pity, especially when Fukurodani had a full strength squad and others desperate to play, whereas Karasuno were still scratching around for members. “Bokuto’s a horribly hard act to follow,” he finished lamely.

“Yes, I -” Looking away, Chikara exhaled, puffing out his cheeks, then returned. “Ah, let’s not talk about volleyball. Did you read that book?”

“Nearly finished. Loving it. Thanks for the rec.”

“Tch, hurry up, I want to talk about the end with you.”

“Well, I would finish it, but someone keeps chatting to me, and I get distracted.”

“Oh!” Chikara’s face fell, he got to his feet and started to remove his headphones. “S-sorry, I’ll-”

“NO! It’s a JOKE! Don’t go.”

Chikara snorted, his expression changing immediately. “You’re easy to wind up tonight, Keij.”

“Git! I’d throw something but I might crack my screen.”

They chatted a while, mostly books and movies, their usual conversation, touching on school, but not volleyball.  Sometimes it surprised Keiji that they didn’t talk of volleyball more, for not only was that how they’d met, but as captains, and captains of teams that were now bearing the weight of expectation after last year’s successes, they only had each other to confide in.

But then Keiji appreciated that not everything was about volleyball with Chikara, just as Chikara knew Keiji had other dreams that didn’t revolve around the court.

“Seriously, if I am keeping you from your essay, tell me to piss off. I won’t mind.”

“Nope, I’m good. I told you I had all weekend.”

“Cool.” Chikara licked the right side of his lower lip, a sign, Keiji had worked out that he was about to ask something that might be sensitive. Usually it wasn’t, at least Keiji never minded answering Chikara’s questions, but occasionally he’d throw him the kind of question that drifted towards him like a jump float serve, and swerved away.

( _Do you have a girlfriend?_ – that had been one. And there’d been a kind of bashfulness about Chikara when Keiji had admitted that no, he didn’t have a girlfriend, and although he could have left it there, he’d found himself spluttering that he couldn’t see that happening.

_‘What, never?’  
 ‘Um, no, I mean, yeah ... uh ... I’m sort of not interested.’_

His answer had hung in the dead air between them, as Chikara had taken in the implications that Keiji only half hoped he’d drawn. And then Keiji, having received the monstrous serve of a question, had returned it, with all the expertise of a Setter, straight to Chikara.

He’d blushed -it was evident even through the tiny laptop picture - and admitted he wasn’t interested, either.

 _‘Tanaka and Noya, they’re so ... uh ... vocal, you know? And the girls in my year are ... well, I guess they’re pretty, but it’s um ...’_   He’d coughed. _‘Can’t talk to them. Not ... um ... like this.’_

And then it had been Keiji’s turn to blush, because for a flutter of a moment, Chikara’s eyes had bored into him.)

Keiji waited patiently, impassively for the question.

“What did Bokuto-san want?”

 _Ah..._ “Uh, I don’t know. He was asking me about the team. Keeping tabs on us. Doesn’t Sawamura-san do the same?”

“Um ... no, not really.” Chikara coughed and wriggled a little on his sofa cushion, upsetting the precarious balance between his laptop and the sofa’s arm.  He looked comfortable enough, though, in his training kit, and munching on his apple. “I’ve got his number, and he’s said I must call him if I ever want any advice but he doesn’t contact me, at least...”

“What?” Keiji rolled his shoulders, trying to get comfortable on his chair, but unlike Chikara, he was still in uniform, the shirt chaffing on his skin.

“Suga-san calls. He chats a bit, and I guess as they’re ... uh ...”

“Together, yes I know that,” Keiji said, and smiled a little at the sudden husk in Chikara’s voice.

“Mmm, yeah, right. So, in a way, Daichi-san does keep in touch, but it’s more subtle. He doesn’t want to breathe down my neck, I think.” He coughed. “Uh ... so it was just about the team, was it?”

“Not sure. As I said he logged off.” He stopped speaking, and wriggled again.

“Keiji?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, bit uncomfortable, that’s all.”  He stood up, stretching his arms above his head.  “S’cuse, I should get changed.”

“Oh, I’ll leave you to it.”

“No, you’re fine.” He unbuttoned the shirt, still talking over his shoulder, as he threw it across the room into his washing basket, then pulled out another from his drawer.

“What else would he ... um ... call you about?”

“Huh?” Tugging on the t-shirt, Keiji flopped back in his chair.  For a fleeting moment, he thought Chikara was staring at him, but when he looked back, the other boy’s attention was to the side.

“What do you talk about?”

“With Bokuto?  Um ... volleyball, really. Training camp stuff. Stupid TV programmes. Manga – that sort of thing.” He eyed Chikara with a hint of suspicion. “Why are you asking?”

Shrugging, Chikara shifted forwards and picked up a bottle of water. “He likes manga?” he asked, twisting the cap off the bottle.

“Prefers anime, but, yeah, I got him reading a few, he got me into some things. I found it stopped him obsessing too much over volleyball.” He stopped speaking, watching as Chikara tipped the bottle towards his lips, taking a mouthful and a swallow. “Why are you interested?”

Fiddling with the water bottle lid, Chikara didn’t quite meet Keiji’s eyes, but he shrugged and took his time before replying, “You mention him quite a lot. You must talk often.”

“He’s a friend, and was my captain. Of course I talk to him.”

Chikara winced, at least that appeared to be what his expression was doing, but then he looked down and swilled some more water.

“And he’s not breathing down my neck,” Keiji protested, when Chikara stayed silent.  “Why wouldn’t he be interested in the team, when it’s what made him who he is? It’s important, even if he has left.”

“Sure, sure.” Chikara raised his hand, the one with the apple in, and peered at Keiji through his sleepy, heavy lidded eyes. “I’m not criticising, honest.”

 _‘Aren’t you!’_ he wanted to snap, but Chikara appeared genuine, even if recently he’d asked a spate of similar questions.

(‘Do you speak every night?’  
 ‘Usually.’  
 ‘Isn’t that ... um ... intimidating?’  
 ‘No, why would it be?’  
 ‘Well, he was a big presence, so ... uh ... casts a long shadow.’  
‘He’s thinking of us. It’s good.’

Chikara’s face had pulled an ‘is it?’ type of expression, but he’d said no more on the subject, steering Keiji onto a film he was going to watch that weekend.)

“I’ve got to go,” Keiji said instead. “Mum’s calling.”

“OH ... er ... okay.” Chikara’s eyes stared back at him, for a moment wide until he did a slow blink, returning his face back to passivity. “I’ll ... um ... be around later, if you need to ... um ... well, whatever.”

“Sure. Bye.”

He clicked off the chat, walked from the room and into the kitchen, and opened up the fridge door. Swigging down some orange juice, he watched out of the window where his mum was currently planting flowers.

“Be nice to get my garden back,” she’d said, showing him the plans for the decking which would take over half the lawn.  “You won’t be practising here anymore, not with Koutarou-chan away.”

“Mum, he’s the other side of the city. It’s not like I’ll never see him again.”

“You’re not on the same team though, are you?”

“No, but he’s still ...” He’d broken off, partly because his mum had pursed her lips, and partly because he wasn’t sure quite what to say.

The term friend – even close friend - seemed altogether inadequate and also too much. Despite their different years, Bokuto had often approached Keiji, sitting with him at lunch, or walking along the corridors to class, usually giving the pretext that he needed to ask him about volleyball, but then the conversations would descend into idiocy, and Keiji had had to bite his lip in order not to laugh out loud. (He’d soon leant that if he laughed, if he showed any weakness – at all - then Bokuto’s joke telling spiralled, and he wouldn’t let up for days.)

But friends confided in each other, didn’t they? And that’s where they fell short. There was never any question that Bokuto could confide in Keiji, but then, whenever something was wrong, the whole damn world knew about it, not just Keiji. Bokuto didn’t or couldn’t keep secrets, it was something that endeared and endangered him.

Back at his desk, Keiji continued with his homework, but every so often, his eyes would flick to the computer, wondering if either would call back, unsure which light he wanted to appear.

 _Stop drifting, you idiot,_ he thought. _Make contact first._

**‘Oya, Bokuto-san, are you there?’**

No answer. Keiji checked his watch. It was seven o’clock. Bokuto would still be at volleyball practise, and had probably not charged his phone. He’d mentioned to Keiji that he usually grabbed something to eat with the guys after, meaning he wouldn’t be back in his room for a while. He’d try again at nine.

At nine, there was no answer.

He tried again at ten, then half an hour later, but Bokuto didn’t reply.

 

***

 

Chikara didn’t initiate contact the next night. That wasn’t altogether unusual. They didn’t talk all the time, but he was usually online. The fact that he wasn’t, made Keiji frown a little and he mulled over the last conversation in his head. Had he been rude? Exasperated was more the word.

Maybe Chikara was invisible. He clicked on Skype, chewing at the side of his thumb while he waited. And then, a soft chuckle escaped his lips, for there was Chikara, his face behind a piece of paper.

‘HAVE YOU FINISHED THAT BOOK YET?’  it said.

Giggling, Keiji quickly scribbled his own reply.  ‘NOT YET!’

‘NOT TALKING TO YOU ‘TIL YOU DO’

‘PLEASE! I PROMISE I’LL FINISH THIS WEEKEND’

Chikara lowered his notepad, and smiled sleepily. “Okay. Hi there.”

“Hi. How are you today?”

He waggled his hand from side to side. “Stressed. Kageyama upset one of the first years. They practically came to blows.”

“How?”

“Dumb fight over nothing, but the new kid’s from Kageyama’s old school, so there’s a bit of history there.  Kageyama was shouting out insults, and not realising that some people really do take offence. We’re kind of used to him being rude and tactless, so I guess we tune out his obnoxiousness. Telling the boy his receives were worse than Hinata’s did it. He threatened to quit. Took me, Tanaka and Yamaguchi a good half hour to dissuade him.”

“Maybe you should have let him go,” Keiji replied.

“He’s 185cm,” Chikara said bluntly. “We lost Asahi-san. This guy might turn out to be a decent Wing-Spiker.”

Keiji considered. “I know you don’t have that many players, but if you have to appease someone continually, it’s not-”

“Uh ... what?”

“You don’t know he’ll be decent. If he’s going to cause trouble when his ... well ... face it, Kageyama is his senpai, so if he’s going to have a strop over that, then maybe he’s not a team player.”

 “Um, isn’t that what you did around your former ace?”

“Bokuto? He was the captain. And that’s different.”

“Why? You had to accommodate him all the time – even when he wasn’t captain.”

“Uh ... Chikara, we’re talking about two completely different things here. Bokuto was our ace. He was top five in the country. And, whatever you think of him, he was a team player. Of course we were going to –”

“And this guy might turn out to be great. He’s fiery. I like that. I think he’ll be good.”

“Then you did the right thing,” Keiji stated.

“But you don’t think so?”

“No... that’s ... uh ...” He closed his eyes, not really understanding what this dispute was about, but he was weary with it already. “I’m jealous,” he said.

“What?”

“You’re a good captain, you know that,” he murmured, and then tried a smile, curving one side of his mouth upwards as he opened his eyes.

Chikara parted his lips, then pressed them together. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “You are, too. And you know what you’re talking about. Sometimes I think I’m treading water, you know. I’m not sure how to keep everyone in line.”

Keiji laughed, a little bitterly. “Yeah, I know. I don’t think I have your patience, Chikara.”

“Even after two years dealing with your Captain. I thought it would be entrenched by now.”

Maybe it should have been. Perhaps Keiji should have been using the past to forge his future, but like Chikara, he felt as if he were treading water, waiting for the current to throw him in the right direction.

_Beep boop._

Bokuto?

“You okay?”

“Phone message. Might be Bokuto,” he replied and reached for his phone.  It was one of his kouhai’s – a new Setter. “No. My mistake.” He frowned.  “I should contact him, though.”

“Uh, sure.” Chikara licked his lips, then he sniffed. “I should go, but ... um ... did I tell you about Golden Week?”

“Huh?”  Keiji looked up from his phone, but continued to scroll through for Bokuto’s number.”

“Doesn’t matter. Hey, I’ll leave you in peace. I’ve got a stack of work to get through, and ... um ...Tanaka wanted a chat.”

“Oh ... okay. I’ll um ... um ...” He stared at Chikara, puzzled because usually they talked for longer than this. “I’ll finish that book tonight, I promise.”

“Good.” The smile was fleeting, but it was there, and though it should have reassured Keiji, he wasn’t altogether convinced that he was happy, but then again, Ennoshita Chikara was very hard to read.

 

 **‘Oya, Captain. How are you?’** Keiji typed, lounging on his bed until Bokuto replied. He could finish the book, he supposed, but it was hard to concentrate when he was waiting for a response.

 _‘ **hows the team. Do u need hlep’**_ came an almost immediate reply.

**‘The team’s fine. I wondered how you were.’**

**_‘gud. Have u played ur practise game yet???’_ **

**‘No, that’s on Thursday. Have you got a game coming up?’**

There was a longish kind of pause; Keiji’s finger hovered on the buttons wondering whether to repeat the question, but then Bokuto’s reply pinged to him.

**_‘might have on wensday. Depends if im picked.’_ **

Keiji laughed at Bokuto’s sudden flash of modesty. **‘Course you’ll be picked. You’re the ace.’**

**_‘yea but theres lots of guys here who r gud and they rotate so we all get turns just so they can see whos the best.’_ **

**‘You are,’** Keiji assured him. **‘I’m sure you’ll be playing for the first team soon.’**

**_‘no the older guys r strong’_ **

**‘Oh, sure, that makes sense. So first years don’t make the first team, then?’**

He could more or less feel Bokuto’s shrug, and for some unaccountable reason, the picture of his former Captain’s face, not bright and beaming, but downcast – in full dejected mode – sprang into his mind.

**_‘kuroo and sawamura made second team and theres a setter whos verry strong.’_ **

**‘Another genius like Kageyama?’**

**_‘yea may be’_ **

**‘You’ll make the team, Bokuto-san. You know you’re good. Be patient.’**

**_‘mmm how r u?’_ **

**‘I’m fine, and the team’s good. We’re looking forward to Golden Week.’**

**_‘GOLDEN WEEK!!!!! AH, I BET THATS GONNA BE LOST OF FUNNNNNN!  Make sure u all hav a morning jog dont let them slack off. ’_ **

**‘I won’t. I promise.’**

**_‘ur gonna miss me admit it Akaashi.’_ **

**‘We already do, Bokuto. It’s far too quiet here.’**

**_‘:D :D :D. gah gt2go bye!!!!!!’_ **

And although it had been a text conversation, and the only sound had been the faintest of beeps from his phone and a buzz as it vibrated, the silence after Bokuto had gone was palpable.  He stared at the ceiling wondering how someone who wasn’t even in the same room, same house, same street, left such a gaping hole when they left.

 

***

The bus stopped outside the university just after five, and so, hoisting his bag over his shoulder, Keiji stepped off and onto the pavement. It was a mild evening, all the promise of a fine Spring in the air, and with daylight still upon him, he could see his surroundings and signposts with no real problem.

‘I’ll meet you by the gate,’ had been the instruction.

But it wasn’t Kuroo who met him. Instead it was a very flustered looking, but still with a smile on his face, Sugawara Koushi. Keiji blinked, because the last time he’d had seen him, Sugawara been decked in his black Karasuno kit, looking solemn,  but now in jeans, a pale blue t-shirt and a brown jacket that looked rather too big, he appeared younger and more light-hearted.

“Sugawara-san, are you here for me?” he asked, and bowed down.

“Ah, yeah, Kuroo asked if I’d meet you. He’s warming up. Would you like a coffee, or something?”

“Is there time?”

“We can take it with us and sit down and watch until they’re fully warmed up.”

“Aren’t you playing?”

Sugawara winced, his hand touching his leg. “Thigh strain. It’s a whole level above here, and I wasn’t as fit as I thought.”

Taking in the information, Keiji wetted his lips. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted coffee, but maybe the chance to talk to someone who was also in the loop and wasn’t going to either judge or assume he could perform miracles, was exactly what he needed.

 

(“You’re going where today?” In his uniform, the stiff gakurun jacket done right up to the neck, Chikara looked formal and far more intimidating than when he was in his volleyball kit. Ready early, he’d been killing time before the school bus came, logging on just to say ‘hi’ he’d said.

“To see Bokuto,” Keiji replied, stung at the incredulity on Chikara’s face. “So I probably won’t be around tonight.”

“You’re skipping both school and practise?”

‘Two lessons and one practise.’

“You’re college prep, Keiji, _and_ you’re the Captain. Seriously, what do you think you can do?”

“I _know_ Bokuto.”

“So only _you_ can cure this ... what ... this block and make everything all right because you’re  ... special?”

Tightening his laces, Keiji scowled, the fact that Chikara was right, wasn’t going to stop him though. “What’s your problem, Ennoshita? This hasn’t got anything to do with you. I’m not on your team or even at your school. We don’t even have to speak every night. We just do.”

There was a whistle sucked between teeth, and for a moment, Keiji thought Chikara was going to end the chat, but he stayed put, his face expressionless. “Fine. No, you’re right. It has nothing to do with me, except ...” He licked his lower lip.  “Keij, we’re... friends, yeah?”

“Mmm.”

“Then ...look, I don’t want to speak out of turn, but I still don’t get why you’re rushing to him? He’s not your captain anymore. You don’t play for the same team, so why?”

“H-he ...” Keiji swallowed. “He needs me.”

“Really. Why you? He’s got the whole college and a sports scholarship committee looking after him.”

“He just does.”

Chikara stared at him. There was a muscle going in his cheek, and his voice when it emerged from rather thin lips, sounded strained. “Keiji, is ... Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.”

“Is Bokuto more than a friend?”

“What?”

“You know what I m-mean.”

“Um, no, I don’t. Say what you actually mean, Chikara, instead of using a bloody euphemism.”

“Fine. Is Bokuto your b-boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Was he?”

“Uh ...” He inhaled through his nose and stared at some indeterminate space in the distance. Then after pulling the loops on his trainers, so each was equal, he glanced back at the screen, not at all surprised to see Chikara motionless before him. “Not the way you think.”

“Now who’s being euphemistic!”

The explosion was sudden, startling himself more than Chikara, who visibly retreated at the anger. “Well, what the fuck do you want me to say? That we screwed or something? Is that what you want to hear?”

“N-not really. B-but if it’s the truth and if you want to tell me, then yes.”

“I don’t want to tell you. Think what you want.”)

 

“It’s good of you to come all this way,” Suga said. He handed over a card to the barista, smiling as he did, and handed one cup over to Keiji. “Did it take you long?”

“About an hour.” He sipped at his coffee, taking too big a slug through the tiny plastic hole and winced when it scalded his tongue. “Do you think I’m crazy coming here? Or ... um ... arrogant?”

Suga stared at him in surprise. He shook his head. “Uh, why would I think that?”

“Because ... well ... I am just a high school kid and... ” He trailed off, burying himself in his coffee again as he waited for Sugawara to answer.

“You know Bokuto-san better than anyone,” he said sagely. “That was clear from those practise sessions in Tokyo.”

 Clamping his hand on Keiji’s shoulder, he steered him across the campus, pointing out the Hall of Residence where Bokuto lived, and further across the field, the gymnasium.

“You don’t live on campus,” Keiji stated.

“No, I share a flat with Daichi, Kuroo and Morisuke,” Sugawara replied, and licked some froth off his upper lip. “Bokuto’s welcome to come over whenever he wants, he does know that. And he’s been over a lot, until recently.”

Giving Sugawara a side glance, Keiji took the mild rebuke because yes, he had started to think that Bokuto was isolated. But he did have friends, that was clear from Kuroo’s replies and now Sugawara’s concern.

( **_‘im leaving.’_**

**‘Leaving where?  Halls? Oh, have you found yourself a flat share?’**

**_‘college i don’t like it’_ **

**‘WHAT?’**

**_‘dont fit in and the class is hard.’_ **

**‘You’ve barely been there a month. Bokuto ... uh ... what are you talking about?’**

**_‘theyll kick me out anyway cuz im not on the team’_ **

**‘Look, they’re going to give you time to settle in. Don’t be daft, Bokuto.’**

**_‘im dumb u all think so’_ **

**‘No. We all think you’re great. Hey, you’re the ace.’**

**_‘not anymore’_ **

**‘You can’t expect to slot into the first team straight away. You know that. You said yourself that first years don’t get on the first team, but you can practise and work your way there.’**

**_‘no point’_ **

**‘STOP THIS!’**

**_‘its the truth’_ **

**‘Bokuto-san. You are the most dedicated and hard-working player I’ve ever met. You have a heap of talent, too.’**

**_‘i skipped practise don’t wanna go anymore’_ **

**“Well, that’s not going to get you anywhere.’**

**_‘the setters not like you i keep missing spikes and kuroo laughed’_ **

**‘Kuroo laughs at everyone. You’ve got to blast past him and stop him. You know that.’**

**_‘may be.’)_ **

“Bokuto is at practise, isn’t he?”

Sugawara nodded. “Daichi and Morisuke called round to fetch him. Kuroo thought it best he stayed out of it. They ... um ... had a bit of a spat.  Kuroo’s really sorry, but you must know what he’s like.”

“Provocation expert, yes, I know.” Keiji glanced around the campus. It was big, bleak and full of grey buildings. Not at all like his Tokyo suburb, which despite being part of the capital, had a warm and colourful appearance. “Bokuto mentioned a Setter. He says he’s very good.”

“Ah, yes,” Suga replied. He raised his cup to his mouth, then thought better of it. “Oikawa Tooru – he’s ... um ... exceptional.”

 

The gymnasium wasn’t as flash as Keiji had expected. It was bigger than the one at Fukurodani as it housed four practise courts, but it was shabbier with an old battered wooden door, and paint peeling on the windows. As he followed Sugawara, making his way through the rows of seats, he scanned the players, searching for Bokuto. He found him, finally, among a group of five, not a grey spiky-haired figure leaping all over the court, but one who looked bedraggled, tiredness dogging his every step, not jumping high enough, and failing to connect.

“JUST TELL ME!”

Keiji’s attention whiplashed away from Bokuto and towards another figure.

“WHAT TYPE OF TOSS?”

Bokuto was shaking his head as the boy shouted. He was a fraction shorter than Bokuto, and with less bulk, but had the sort of athletic frame Keiji knew he’d never achieve. Pushing the hair that was flopping over his face, off his eyes, he stormed up to Bokuto, not the least intimidated.

“WAS IT TOO HIGH?”

“N-no.” Bokuto was faltering, stumbling and Keiji’s stomach twisted painfully.

“TOO LOW?”

“No.”

The Setter took a breath, his hands behind his head. “Do you want it closer to the net? Or further away? Faster? Slower? Medium?”

“I ... uh ...”

“I CAN’T READ MINDS!”

“Don’t badger him,” Keiji whispered. He twisted to face Sugawara. “Is that Oikawa?”

“Mmm.”

“If he’s exceptional, then why’s he picking on him? Can’t he just try a few things?”

“He has,” Sugawara said, very gently, and patted Keiji on the knee. “Oikawa’s desperate to find an Ace. It will help both of them gain a place on the team – the first team, even – if they can form a bond. And ... from what he’d heard of Bokuto, Oikawa thought he could be that Ace, but ...”

“Bokuto’s messing up.”

“Mmm, he’s in permanent ‘dejected mode’, as you used to say.” Placing his coffee cup on the floor, Suga shrugged off the brown jacket, and leant forwards on his seat.

“That Setter must be used to playing with different players, though. Why isn’t he adapting?”

“Ah ... well ... he would. I know Oikawa from High School. He is without doubt the best player I’ve ever played against. He’s amazingly strong, and is extremely good at not only drawing out someone’s optimum talent, but pinpointing an opposing player’s weakness.”

“Then why is he shouting at Bokuto instead of helping.”

Sugawara sighed. “Leaving his team has affected him, too. There was a guy he played with, their Ace, and ... uh ... he’s not here. They had an almost uncanny connection.”

“FORGET IT!” screeched Bokuto, suddenly and violently throwing the volleyball at Oikawa, who, to Keiji’s surprise, laughed and ducked.

“Some fire at last! Do you play better when you’re angry, Boku-chan?”

“FUCK OFF!”

“Oh-kay, let’s get down there,” Sugawara murmured.

“What?  No, I’ve only just turned up.” _And what the hell am I going to say? Why would he listen? Chikara’s right. He has a whole gang of players here who want to help and I’m ..._ “Sugawar-san, I think I should go-”

But Sugawara wasn’t listening. He’d got to his feet and was waving his arms.  “How about a time out, then ... um ... a three-on-three?” he shouted.

The players on that court all looked across, one Keiji recognised as Sawamura, who smiled up them.

“Is your thigh okay?  Are you playing?”

“Nope.” Suga shook his head. “I’ve brought another setter.”

“Count me out. I quit,” yelled Bokuto, tearing off his bib as he stormed to the side of the gym.

Keiji stopped his ruminations. He stopped pitying his former Captain, and stopped questioning his own motives (Chikara had done enough of that, goddamn him). Standing up, he peeled off his jacket and placed his hands on his hips.

“Not when I’ve come all this way, Captain Owl. Now pick up that bib, and get back on court.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a song that inspired the Bokuto side of the this story which I listened to pretty frenetically whilst writing and planning Riptide. That song was 'Leave Right Now' by Will Young.   
> This set of lyrics make me think particularly of this pair.
> 
> 'I wouldn't know how to say  
> How good it feels seeing you today  
> I see you've got your smile back  
> Like you say your right on track'

“AKAASHI!” Bokuto froze. With one arm still outstretched from when he’d thrown the bib and the other across his chest, he looked like a maimed owl, lost and utterly astonished. “WHY YOU _HERE?_ ”

“To see you, of course, Captain,” Keiji said, softly but clearly, his voice carrying.  

Bokuto physically gulped, his eyes darting from side-to-side, and then the beginnings of a grin leeched on his face. “You need my help, huh?”

“Uh ... yeah, it’s ... um ... this problem I’m having with one of the new guys. He’s ...” Keiji twisted his mouth into a grimace. “It’s really hard to explain, so can I show you, Bokuto-san?”

“Is he really that unaware?” Sugawara murmured, twisting his face so only Keiji caught the words. “He must know you’ve seen what happened.”

But Keiji smiled because Bokuto had picked up the bib. “It’s his way,” he whispered. He cleared his throat. “I don’t have my kit, Sugawara-san.  I thought I was going to watch, maybe chat to him, and get his mind off it all. Can I borrow some shorts?”

“Mmm, I’ll show you where to go.” His eyes flickered to Keiji’s feet. “You wore your volleyball shoes, though, so this isn’t such a huge surprise.”

Hearing someone clap, Keiji switched his attention back to the court, where Kuroo was taking control. “Okay, let’s take a break. Oikawa-san, how ‘bout you, me and Yaks make up a team, leave Sawamura with Bokuto and Akaashi-kun.”

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed, then flickered towards Keiji and Sugawara. “Akaashi- _kun,_ so you’re still in High School?”

They were on the outskirts of the court by now, but Keiji stopped to stare at the college Setter. He nodded. “I play for Fukurodani.”

“He’s the new Captain!” Bokuto exclaimed.

Eyeing him meditatively, Oikawa sucked in a breath, then tilted his head to one side, considering the boy in front of him. And all at once, Keiji felt nervous – in a way he hadn’t for two years. He’d never met this guy, hadn’t heard of him, or seen him play at all, but Bokuto rated him, and while Bokuto often made extravagant claims about other’s abilities, it was more his enthusiasm for people and plays that got him carried away. Yet, he’d said this guy – Oikawa Tooru – was strong.

Not only that, Sugawara had said he was the best player he’d played against.  And now he thought of it, Chikara’s face swam before him, his cheeks puffing out a breath as he’d confided his relief that he wouldn’t be leading Karasuno out to face an Oikawa-led Aobajousai.

Keiji could feel his hands prickling with sweat, but he met Oikawa’s gaze, his face impassive.

“You played at Nationals,” Oikawa said, no question in his voice.

“Twice,” Keiji agreed.

“Then get changed and show us all what you can do.”

 

(“Hey, new guy, what position d’you play? Are you a Wing-Spiker? ‘Cause that’s what I am.”

Keiji stared at the boy in front of him and warily gauged the distance to the exit, wondering if he could escape now. The boy was much taller, or appeared that way. Maybe it was his shoulders and the arms ... MY GODS the arms. How could someone at sixteen have such defined biceps? And his forearms  - what the hell were they? (He found out later, when he looked it up on the internet, that it was the brachioradialis muscle.)

“Setter,” he muttered.

“Huh? Speak up. Ya gotta make yourself known. Libero, you said?”

“Setter!” Keiji repeated, clearer now, and shaking his head because Libero sounded nothing like Setter, so this guy was either an idiot or intent on messing with his head.

“Yah, I heard ya the first time,” the wing spiker teased, and ruffled his hair. “I’m Bokuto.”

_I know_ , he wanted to say, because everyone knew Bokuto, even if they weren’t in the Volleyball Club, it only took a week of attending Fukurodani to hear the name Bokuto Koutarou yelled across the corridors. “Akaashi Keiji,” he replied, and jerked his head away as Bokuto continued to rub.

“Oooh, soft hair.”

“Do you mind?” he snapped, suddenly irritable. Then he flinched, because whatever his opinion, Bokuto was older. Was his senpai.  And he was ... _so_ imposing. He had an aura about him, and an easy way with everyone on the team, which Keiji knew he’d never attain. Hell, he hadn’t even meant to come here. He’d been intending on dropping volleyball at high school because ... sometimes it was just far too much. He was only here ... Why had he walked through the door?  Why hadn’t he found another club? One with less ...  Chess club would have been far better. Far Less Loud!

“Oya, we have a live one, here,” joked Bokuto, and grinned down at him. “I like ya. Wanna set for me? Show me what you can do?”

“Bokuto-kun, don’t pick on the first years!”someone yelled. (Keiji later found out it was Oshio.)

“I’m not. Akaashi-kun’s gonna set for me.”

 “Am I?” Keiji wondered, but Bokuto wasn’t listening. )

 

“You’re taller than me, so I hope these fit all right,” Sugawara was saying.

“Hmm?”

“Akaashi-kun ... shorts?”

“Oh ... yeah, thanks.”

“You are okay with this, aren’t you?” Sugawara continued. He placed a hand on Keiji’s shoulder. “Sorry, I thought it might help.”

“I’m fine, just ... um ... remembering something.”  Taking the shorts from Sugawara, he slipped them on. “These are okay. Thanks.”

 

(“Hey you’re pretty good, Akaashi-kun. If you ever want to practise at lunch break, then let me know. I’m Class One, okay?”

“Don’t your friends do that?” Keiji asked, and glanced pointedly at the group of second years by the door.

“Nah, they run off after a while. Will ya practise blocking with me?”

“Bokuto – leave him alone!”

“What class are you? I’ll come and find ya.”

“Uh ... no that’s fine. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Bet ya a bright kid, yeah?  I c’n tell, ‘cause you got clever eyes. And ya speak well. Kinda controlled.” He stopped grinning and pushed out his bottom lip. “’Course I’m prob’ly wrong ‘cause I’m kinda dumb, and don’t know shit about -”

“I’m Class Five,” Keiji interrupted before this strange boy continued his self-deprecating sob story.

Immediately he beamed. “That’s cool. I’ll find ya tomorrow, then Akaashi-kun.”

And with a wink, he walked away and to his friends. Feeling he’d just been had, Keiji sighed, flipped open the top from his water bottle, and took a long steady drink.)

 

“You’ve warmed up, right?” Bokuto asked when Keiji walked out of the changing room.

“Walked from the bus stop,” he replied, and bending his elbow, he stretched out his upper arm, feeling the burn in his muscle.

“Gotta do more than that.”

“I know. Give me a few minutes.” He bent over, touching his toes, then straightened up, pulling his foot behind him.   

Bokuto stood beside him, wiggling his arms and fingers, shoulders shrugging up and down and twisting his neck to each side. He was shuffling his feet, on to tips, then back to balls of feet, flexing each calf, restless in a way Keiji recognised because Bokuto had always been like this, before practise, before a game, hell, even before they were about to get on the coach. But now, oddly, it felt different. More restless. More ... desperate.

“That Setter,” Keiji murmured, and took a slow, deliberate swallow. “H-how good is he?”

“Huh? Oikawa?” Bokuto stopped his fidgeting, completely still for an unnerving two seconds, and then edged closer. He smiled and slapped Keiji on the back. “Ain’t like you, Akaashi. He ain’t like you.”

“He’s an exceptionally good server, so ... uh ... watch out.” It was Sawamura speaking, and he sounded serious, but he smiled lopsidedly at Keiji. “Nice to meet you again, Akaashi-kun.” And then he mouthed ‘Thank you’ when Bokuto turned away.

“Shall I serve?” Yaku called out.

“Why not?” Oikawa replied. He strode towards the net, standing next to Kuroo, his eyes flicking from Sawamura to Keiji, before settling on Bokuto.

Keiji readied himself next to Bokuto, leaving Sawamura at the back. In truth, he knew Yaku’s serve wouldn’t be strong because as a Libero, he never took them. However, as expected of a former Nekoma player, Yaku was well rounded. He served, not powerfully, but well, aiming just in front of Sawamura, so he had to take an odd off balance step closer to receive. He flicked it towards Keiji, and the ball hovered in the air. 

With fingertip precision, Keiji tossed to Bokuto. It was the sort of toss, Bokuto lapped up. Just at his optimum reach height, he leapt, stretched, and prepared to spike straight.

Kuroo jumped, almost lazily, and blocked the ball.

 “One-nil to the cats,” Sugawara called, turning the scoreboard.

“Cats?” Oikawa queried.

“Uh-huh. Cats against Owls. Two cats on your side, two owls on theirs.”

“We’re not at high school now,” Oikawa muttered, then shrugged. “Your serve again, Yaku-san.”

Sawamura stayed at the back, receiving easily, and again lobbing the ball across to Keiji. Noting Bokuto’s position, and where Kuroo and Oikawa were, he tossed it a little higher, and a little further to the left. The sort of toss that to Bokuto was his lifeblood and garnered him points almost without thinking.

He was stopped again, the ball bounding across the net, and down into Sawamura’s arms.

 “Akaashi!” called Sawamura, hoiking the ball into the air.

He flipped around, preparing to toss again, his eyes on the best space before flicking to Bokuto.

“Again!” he cried.

Bokuto stretched, legs curled up behind him as he jumped, his right hand high in the air, his eyes flicked across the opposite side of the court. His intention clear, he evaded the blockers, but spiked straight at Yaku. The receive flew to Oikawa, who casually tossed one handed to Kuroo. And he slammed the ball down, with a shade of insolence, in the far corner, Sawamura had vacated.

“Two nil to the Cats,” Sugawara intoned.

“Gotcha, Captain Crow!” Kuroo yelled.

“Bring it on, Kuroo,” Sawamura snapped back, but he was grinning and sticking out his tongue.

Yaku served again. As his serve wasn’t strong, they should have been getting points off it, Keiji thought. The Owls should have had control of the serve by now.  The same pattern followed, Sawamura receiving and returning straight to the Setter. A textbook play and Akaashi, tossed again, this time a little higher, because maybe he’d been mistaken. It had been two months since he’d set for Bokuto, so perhaps he’d forgotten something.

Bokuto leapt, flailed with his arm, attempting to blast past his blockers, but it connected with his wrist and he shot straight at Oikawa’s hand, who with lightening reactions batted it over his head, to drop just behind them. Oikawa’s eyes narrowed, his lips pursed and he landed back on the court, saying nothing.

“Three nil, Cats.”

“We’ll get the next one,” Sawamura called.

But Akaashi’s eyes were on Bokuto.

His head was down.

 

( Bokuto’s head was down, his arm outstretched towards Keiji. “I’m useless!”

“What the hell!  You’re the Ace!”

“Don’t toss to me!”

“We’re in a match, Bokuto-san. There’s no way I can stop tossing to you!”

The opposing serve, came across to them, Komi received, sending it straight to Keiji. He set again, a perfect arc across to Bokuto because despite what he’d said, he was in the best position. Bokuto leapt on instinct, and missed entirely.

The coach called a time out.

“What’s the problem?” he asked Keiji. “If the toss was off, don’t worry about it. Think clearly, and you’ll get there, Akaashi-kun.”

Noticing his teammates shuffling their feet, Keiji waited for one of them to speak up. He was the new boy,  had been given this chance in a practice match, and was desperate to make the right impression.

He’d been given the chance because Bokuto-san rated him.

“Sure,” Keiji muttered.

“S’my fault,” Bokuto spluttered, and stared at the coach. “Take me off.”

The coach shook his head. “Not again, Koutarou. Get over this and get back on the court.”)

 

By pure luck, they gained a point, Yaku’s serve hit the top of the net and Akaashi tipped it over before Kuroo could get there. Although Bokuto reached for the ball, Sawamura got there first, and walked to the back of the court.  His serve was strong, not overly powerful, but solid, aiming for the middle of the court. From Yaku’s receive, Oikawa tossed, a high set for Kuroo, who leapt, and with a grin, slammed the ball over. Bokuto, on instinct, stuck out his leg, the ball rebounded into the air, just too far over for Keiji to set, only to be saved from the floor by Sawamura.

“Bokuto!” Keiji shouted as he prepared to set.

“Don’t –”

“BOKUTO!”  he insisted, curving the ball over to him.

He jumped, hitting the ball not at Kuroo, but straight to Oikawa, who blasted it down past Bokuto’s head.

“Four one to the Cats,” Sugawara called.

“I said don’t,” Bokuto mumbled.

“Not this early in the game, Bokuto,” Keiji murmured.

It was Kuroo’s serve. He floated it over, Sawamura received, again powering it across to Keiji. _Again_ he set, tipping it towards Bokuto, hoping he would do something and not remain motionless.

He jumped, and with his splayed palm, hoofed the ball over the net.

And that’s when Keiji realised. Because, as if trying to instil confidence back in Bokuto, Kuroo, running up, had made a half-hearted block, the space between his arms glaring. But still the block had succeeded and Keiji saw that Bokuto was scared. His attempt had been a mix between a feint and a spike, and that hadn’t worked. His indecision was dragging him under.

“Five – one,” Suga called as the ball dropped to the floor.

In their last two campaigns, Bokuto’s mood shifts had adjusted. He’d become less temperamental, and more consistent. The top five ace had moved into the top three. But at this rate, not even connecting his palm to the easiest of tosses, he’d struggle to make a Neighbourhood side.

“Time out!” Keiji called, not caring that he was amongst college students and he was not only their guest but a kouhai.  He pulled on Bokuto’s sleeve, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “What’s wrong?”

 

(“What’s wrong?”

“Can’t spike. Don’t know how. They’re blocking everything!”

Their teammates were giving him odd, embarrassed looks. Keiji swallowed, and wiped his sweaty palms down his shorts. “Is my toss wrong, Bokuto-san?”

“Huh?”

“Please,” Keiji whispered. “Tell me what you need.”

“Don’t know.” He shook his head, eyes closed. “Can’t...  Breath-”

_Breather?_ Keiji gaped. “Uh ... okay.”

He took his place on court, glancing across to the coach, who met his gaze with a scowl.  And he understood, now, understood why he’d got the starting place. Bokuto, their talent, was inconsistent. The coach wanted him accommodated because he was the match winner, everyone else was there to ... _I need to get this right_ , he thought, and puffed out his cheeks. _Okay._

The next ball that came his way, he set to Konoha, who blasted past the opposing Middle Blocker without a second thought.

“See, there are other players on court,” he said, holding his hand up to receive the high five. “If Bokuto can’t hack it, he should be taken off.”)

 

“Can’t spike. Don’t toss to me again.”

_“So only_ _you_ _can cure this ... what ... this block and make everything all right because you’re  ... special?”_

Grinding his teeth in an attempt to block out Chikara’s persistant voice hammering at him, Keiji took his time before answering. “It’s a three-on-three, Bokuto, I’m running out of options here,” he muttered.

“Toss to Sawamura.”

“Uh, he could, but ...” Sawamura studied Bokuto, then his eyes flickered towards Keiji. “Akaashi-kun, you said you wanted help because of a new player. Tossing to me probably won’t help because I’m a defence specialist, and yeah, I can spike, but um ... I doubt I’ll get past those guys.”

_Nice try,_ he thought, gripping a water bottle to stop his hands trembling. _But that won’t work. He needs time to cool off, to regroup, except he’s had time and I thought he was over this. But now he’s backsliding, and Jeez, Chikara was right, what makes me think I can do anything when it’s patently clear that there’s something else-_

“New guy, huh?” Bokuto said slowly, taking a gulp of water.

“Uh ... yeah, the one I told you about,” Keiji lied smoothly. “He could be good. And boy, we need someone good to replace you, Bokuto-san.”

He smiled, just a small glimmer of a grin, before his expression settled into seriousness.

 “So, what’s the problem with the new guy?”

“Uh ...” Under cover of retying his laces, Keiji thought quickly. “He ... um ... or rather I can’t work out the best toss for him. I think I need to try a few new things, but don’t want to screw up either him or Onaga, not when they’re blending.” He smiled very slightly. “Don’t want them to lose confidence.”

“You want me to be your rabbit, huh?”

“Guinea-pig,” Keiji corrected, “and yeah, please.”

“I prefer rabbits,” Bokuto said, the small gleam in his eye belying the stupidity of his question. “Rabbits can jump. Guinea pigs eat hay and sleep.”

He couldn’t stop the chuckle in his throat, however hard he tried (although, to be fair, Keiji hadn’t tried to repress his laughter, because sometimes he had to let Bokuto win.) “Yeah, you’re my rabbit.”

“And you need my help to get to Nationals, huh?” Bokuto asked, and reaching across, he ruffled Keiji’s hair.

“Get off me, you daft owl,” Keiji complained, deliberately not smiling. But inside his stomach had miraculously unknotted because Bokuto’s eyes were gleaming, and while he was still fidgeting, it was more energetic and purposeful.

“C’mon, then, let’s work on this toss,” he said, and winked conspiratorially. “Oikawa ain’t gonna know what’s hit him.”

 

(He was restless. Keiji could see Bokuto’s eyes watching the ball, his head now tilted up, flicking to see who would get the toss, who was ready, whether the ball would be for Konoha or Oshio.  And both were in place, both could jump and spike and probably score, but Keiji saw the return of hunger in the Ace’s eyes, and within that split second, he launched it across, screaming, “ACE!”

He heard an exasperated groan from Oshio, but watched as almost in slow motion, Bokuto began his run up, and jumped. He jumped high; he angled his body, splayed his palm and connected with the ball. He used the heft, used all his power and slammed cross-court into the far corner.

“WHO’S THE ACE!” he yelled.”HELL YEAAAAH!”)

 

It wasn’t like the old days. For one thing, Bokuto’s confidence, shattered by being up against others of his ilk, wasn’t as easily repaired as it had been in a High School game. And however accustomed to Akaashi’s toss he was, they’d still been apart for nearly two months.

So the first ball, after Kuroo served, he did not hit with all his power. He was still hesitant, still not quite sure.

But he was there.

And he scored.

One corner his mouth jerked up into a grin.

“Did’ja see that, Akaashi? Right through the trappy cat’s arms.”

“I saw.”

“Is that the type o’ thing you need your player to do?”

“Hmm, maybe,” Akaashi said. He picked up the ball, ready to serve, but Sawamura took it from him.

“I know I’ve served already,” he called out as he twisted the ball between his palms, “but these guys need the practise, so is that okay?”

“Fine by us,” Kuroo called and walked closer to the net. He lowered his voice. “I ain’t going easy on him this time, okay?”

“Wouldn’t expect you to,” Akaashi murmured, and licked his lips in anticipation.

“Five two to the Cats,” Sugawara called.

Yaku received, easily diverting the ball straight to Oikawa, and waiting for his toss to Kuroo, Akaashi was wrong-footed when instead the Setter took control himself and fired the ball down the centre, going right between the pair of them and past Sawamura.

“Six two, Cats,” he called, before Sugawara could speak. “And my serve, I believe.”

“You might want to stand back for this,” Sawamura warned. “It’s kind of lethal, unless you’re used to it.”

“So I’ve been told,” Keiji murmured, as again Chikara’s voice stuck in his head.

It had power. It had intention, but the ball stopped short of the bullet Keiji had been expecting. It came at him, and he received it plum in the centre of his arms, tilting it up and to Bokuto. Not a great toss, not the perfect set, but high enough for a decent effort. And as Bokuto jumped, Keiji’s attention was caught by Oikawa, still at the back of the court, and not running forward to help block. Bokuto slammed it down the centre, not as forcefully as he might have done in the past, but the intent was there.

“SIX THREE OWLS” he yelled.

“Nice spike!” Sugawara called. “And great receive, Akaashi-kun.”

“He’s going easy on us, isn’t he?” Keiji whispered to Sawamura, as the latter strolled over to retrieve the ball. “Chikara told me Oikawa’s serves were lethal.”

“Chikara?  Oh, yeah, you’re friends, aren’t you? Suga mentioned it.” He smiled wryly. “Uh ... yeah, Oikawa’s more interested in Bokuto than winning.”

“Sugawara-san said he needed an Ace.”

“Mmm, he’s already made the second team, and will probably make the first before any of us, but ... well, he’s not complacent.” He bounced the ball on the floor. “The college players are very good, but I guess it’s a matter of finding that one player you have a connection with.”

Keiji nodded, and tried to swallow away the sudden lump forming in his throat. That one player - _his_ one player - stood by the net, his head tilting from side to side, his feet shifting on the floor in some crazy out of step rhythm.

 

(“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“Too right it’s not.”

“But ...” Chikara fiddled with the top button of his jacket. “Keij... uh ... oh, forget it.”

Keiji stared back at the screen, his face stiff. “What?”

He took a breath, finally refastened the button and faced Keiji. There was no hesitation, just a steely resolve.

Keiji met his gaze. “What do you want to say, Ennoshita?”

“Make sure you’re doing this for the right reasons.”

“Pardon?”

“You say it’s to help Bokuto-san.”

“IT IS!”

He shrugged, raising his palms at the same time. “That’s good, but...” Shaking his head, Chikara smiled slightly. “I’m worried that you don’t seem to realise he’s moved on.”

“I’m trying to help him move on!”

“Really?” Chikara raised his eyebrows. “Only it seems to me that you’re trying to recapture what you’ve lost, that you want to feel indispensible. He’s not coming back to Fukurodani, Keij. You’re the one in charge now.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about,” he snarled. and bending across he slammed the lid down on his laptop, cutting the connection.

“Arsehole!” he muttered savagely. )

 

“Are we getting on with this, or are the pair of you calling another time-out?” Kuroo hollered.

“Yup, on my way!” Sawamura replied. “Let’s catch up, and finish that arrogant cat off, shall we?”

The next few points went the way of the Owls, until they settled into a three-point lead. Sawamura and Keiji got a point apiece, Yaku had tipped a receive into the net, but it was Bokuto who’d made the difference. Energised now, he called for the ball, jumping higher, and powering it down to each corner of the court. It was true Oikawa didn’t seem to be in the match, jumping late to block, and fluffing a receive, but somehow Keiji knew it was deliberate. Because when they eased into a six-point lead, Oikawa’s expression suddenly changed.

Receiving the ball from Yaku, he powered it over the net himself, not bothering to toss for Kuroo. It was a strong spike, a straight down the side of the court, which would have won the point had it not been for Bokuto.  At the time, Keiji wondered why he’d chosen that spot, because his former captain was gearing up to receive, but when he looked back, he recalled Oikawa’s very definite placement, and his sudden shift to the side of the court. Unable to deaden the swerve, Bokuto’s receive went wild, flipping over the net and towards Oikawa. It was an easy chance. There was no one at that side of the court, and Oikawa couldn’t fail to score. Except that instead of spiking, he assumed the Setter’s position, and with fingertip precision tossed the ball.

But not to Kuroo or Yaku. The ball flew across the court and across the net straight to Bokuto, with the optimum speed, height and power he relished. With no hesitation, Bokuto grasped his chance and swung down, axing the ball with his palm, firing his spike straight to the corner.

“Six thirteen – Owls.”

“BOOYAH!” Bokuto hooted. “Did’ja see that, Akaashi, did’ja?  Did’ja?”

“Yeah ...” He gazed at the spot where the ball had bounced.

“See that, Kuroo! I ain’t so bad.” Bokuto began, and strutted to the centre of the court.

“Lucky point!” sneered Kuroo, but it was friendly, and Keiji could see the glimmer of real excitement in his eyes.

The Ace had scored. It was one point, only one point, but it was a point his official setter had had no part in. Lifting his face, his eyes met Oikawa’s.  He inclined his head to Keiji, the gesture one of confidence, an acknowledgement of everything Keiji had attempted to do. Of the burden he’d undertaken.

But he didn’t have to carry anymore.

“We should swap setters,” Oikawa said softly. “I’d like a chance to set for the Ace.”

 

The game ended with a 25-16 win for the Owls. Or the one owl, a crow, and whatever Oikawa was (Keiji never had found out). And when it was over, and Bokuto had begun his energetic celebrations (which now involved pulling the hem of his shirt over his face to expose his chest, and tipping the rest of his water bottle over Kuroo’s head) he bounded up to Keiji, flopping one arm across his shoulders.

“Like the old days, huh?”

“Not really,” Keiji replied, raising an eyebrow. “I was on the other side.”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” He turned him round, holding him by both shoulders. “Remember when you first came to Fukurodani and I got ya to block for me. You were a good kid, ya know. My best kouhai.”

“Your only kouhai, Bokuto,” Keiji countered. “You never hassled anyone else. Never knew why.”

“Aah, I did. You were the one that stuck around, though,” Bokuto said, and whistled through his teeth.  “Don’t know how ya put up with me. I musta been hella annoying then.”

Keiji pushed him away, and bent down to hide the flush mounting on his cheeks. “You weren’t so bad,” he said. “And the practise was good for me. I made the first team long before any of the other first years.”

“Would you like another game?” Oikawa asked, walking over. “We could make it best of three.”

He shook his head, even as Bokuto was nodding, eager to continue. “This has been ... uh ... fun and instructive, but I should go.”

“So soon?”

“Yeah, need to catch a bus, Bokuto. And ... Golden Week, you know, I got to prepare some things for it.”

“I’ll walk with ya,” Bokuto said.

He shook his head. “You’ve got to practise. Make sure you get in sync with your new Setter.” Wrinkling up his nose, Keiji sniffed, surprised he could speak so calmly when he was breaking the bonds with his Ace. But this was for the best. He recognised in Oikawa, just as he had in Kageyama, someone who was truly great. Someone like Bokuto, who’d make headlines and steer them both to greatness. “Let me know when you play a match and I’ll come and watch, okay?”

He started to walk back to the changing room, but Bokuto grabbed his arm, and beamed at him. “Fukurodani’ll come good, ya know,” he muttered. “They’re gonna beat Nekoma and Karasuno and whoever else turns up.  ‘Specially now they got you in charge. Hell, you won’t just get to Nationals, Akaashi. You’re gonna win it!”

_You, not we,_ he thought, surprised he didn’t feel sadder. But although there was a tight band across his chest, he could breathe and some of the clouds cleared in his mind as a glimmer of light broke through.

He smiled and bowed low. “We’ll try out best, Bokuto-senpai.”

“Hey, hey, enough of that,” Bokuto spluttered, but he was grinning. He reached across, and ruffled Keiji’s hair, turning around to yell, “Best kouhai, by far, ya know that, guys? Twenty hours a day practicing.”

“You’re exaggerating – again.”

 

He was on the bus when he heard his phone. A small muffled beep as someone messaged him. Flipping it open, he read the message from his mum, asking when he’d be back.  After texting back, he scrolled through the rest of his messages. One from the coach, one from Onaga and one from the new Setter. Small problems, and nothing that couldn’t wait until morning.  But there were three other messages, ones he’d not seen, because he’d stuffed his phone at the bottom of his bag so he didn’t have to deal with getting no texts at all. His stomach churned as he steeled himself for the reproach he was sure he’d read.

**‘Sorry.’** Chikara had written.

An hour later. **‘I’m an idiot. It’s none of my business.’**

And then the last, texted half an hour ago. **‘Hope it goes well.’**

He fumbled with the buttons, almost dropping the phone, as he tapped out his reply.

**‘It went well. Thank you.’**

He waited for the reply because Chikara always replied, unless he physically didn’t have his phone on him.

**‘I’m sorry, too,’** he tapped, just in case his first message hadn’t sent.

He’d be back from practise by now. Even if he’d treated the team to drinks after, he’d be home. It was a rule with him because he didn’t want to slack off on his schoolwork.

**‘I know you only wanted to help and it means a lot.’**

But there was silence, and with a looming dread, Keiji just knew he’d upset Chikara more than he’d realised. Hell, he’d not even finished that book, when he’d promised he would. He didn’t even have the excuse of schoolwork, or volleyball practise. It had all been Bokuto, and his concern for him, when really he should have known he’d be fine.

**‘Sorry.’**

***

Chikara wasn’t on Skype either. Or facebook, and still wasn’t answering his phone when Keiji returned home. Closeting himself in his room, he clicked and refreshed each page, wondering if there was something he’d missed, but Chikara hadn’t updated a status on any of his sites for over two hours.

His head aching, Keiji surveyed his room. In the corner, on his chair, his mum had placed a pile of freshly laundered kit – everything ready for Golden Week. They weren’t going away. Keiji had suggested they move further afield than Tokyo, remembering how enthusiastic Kuroo had been about Nekoma’s trip Miyagi, and how that had brought Karasuno to Tokyo.

_Which is how I met you,_ he mused, _chatting at the barbecue about photography and books, and nothing at all to do with volleyball._

(“You look like you appreciate the quiet times, Ennoshita-san,” Keiji murmured, handing over a can of coke, as they wandered across the grass together.

“When you have two players like them,” Chikara replied, gesturing towards Nishinoya and Tanaka, “you learn to grab every silent moment you can.”  He took a swallow of his drink. “Hinata’s almost as bad and twice as excitable. Sometimes I get a headache watching him, you know?”

“I do. We have Bokuto,” Keiji replied wryly. “Currently my biggest headache is keeping him calm, but not too calm. Engaged but not hyper. He’s like a surfer taking on a wave.” He shook his head. “Actually, no, I’m the surfer, Bokuto’s the tidal wave.”

“That turns into a tsunami,” Chikara suggested.

And Keiji laughed, the sound surprising him because usually he kept his amusement under his impassive mask. “Yeah, that just about sums it up.”

“Y-you s-seem to have a good relationship, though.”

“YO!  Akaashi, look at us!”

Keiji grinned, a little indulgently across at his Captain who was now betting Kuroo he couldn’t fit a whole melon slice in his mouth. “Yeah, we do. Doesn’t stop me longing for calmer waters, though. He exhausts me. I mean, he’s supposed to be my senpai, but really he’s like the kouhai, and an idiot kouhai most of the time.”)

 

There was nothing else to do. Well, there was an essay he should check before handing in, and some reading for school (because there was no chance he’d do anything once Golden Week was in force) but instead, after checking his laptop again, he lay back on his bed and finally picked up the book Chikara had been urging him to finish.

 

He barely heard the commotion downstairs, didn’t fully compute that something surprising had happened, and that his mum wasn’t merely exclaiming over his sister dropping by. He frowned instead, and flipped over the page. But then she called, “Keiji. Keiji, come downstairs.”

And as she didn’t usually summon him with such enthusiasm when his sister popped in with the baby, he left the book face down on his bed, and hopped over to the door.

“Yeah, Mum, what’s up?” He stopped. Something inside his chest leapt, and he knew if he spoke now, his voice would be somewhere between a rasp and a squeak. But he couldn’t not speak. That would be rude. And he needed to smile, for some expression to lighten his face out of its usual passivity, but he was frozen.

Chikara raised his hand. “Hi.” His voice was as tremulous as his hand, but there was a small, nervous smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“Keiji, come down,” his mother scolded, but she was smiling. “You didn’t tell me Chikara-kun was visiting. I would have made up a bed.”

“Ah,” Chikara swallowed, and flitted a smile at her. “Keiji didn’t know. I’m ... um ... it’s our Golden Week, and we’ve come to Nekoma, but ... uh ... I came a day early. And ... um ... please, don’t worry about the bed if it’s inconvenient.” He cleared his throat. “I can stay with my dad. It’s not a problem. I just thought I’d come by and say hello because he’s at the hospital.”

“And working the night shift, I expect,” Keiji’s mum said, and lightly tapped his arm. “You’re always welcome here. You know that. And your father will be too tired to fix you a proper breakfast, which you need if you’re playing volleyball for a week, doesn’t he, Keiji?”

His throat miraculously unstuck. “Yeah, yeah, he will. And, yeah, you can stay. It’s not a problem.”

“Are you hungry? Only we still have some rice, and I can rustle you up something in no time, Chikara-kun.”

Keiji watched as Chikara shook his head, bowed a little and explained he’d eaten on the train. It all felt  ... unreal. Chikara here in his house, talking away to his mum about bento boxes and sushi rolls and how he’d been lucky to find a seat on the train. It shouldn’t have felt strange. Chikara had stayed here before, breaking up the New Year visit to his dad, with a two-day sleepover when his dad had been on call.

His mum adored him, partly because he was polite and appeared quiet, but mainly because his camera and books proved to her he was a boy that had interests outside volleyball, and a boy she hoped would keep her son on track.

Without being conscious of it, Keiji had reached the bottom stair, and while Chikara was removing his shoes, he picked up his backpack. It was heavy. It must have a week’s worth of clothes in it.

“You’re really here for Golden Week,” he asked, pleased his voice sounded almost normal. “You didn’t say.”

“Ah, I meant to, but ... um ...” Chikara grinned a little wryly.

_I wasn’t listening._

“Why are you here?” he asked, when they were alone in Keiji’s room and setting up the futon.

“Uh.” Chikara glanced up from the pillow he was plumping. He looked both nervous but a little excited, and far less sleepy than usual. “I ... um ... Okay, the official reason is that I told the Coach I needed to see my dad, so he ... um .... gave me permission to come up a day early. I’ll meet them tomorrow.”

“But you’re not seeing your dad?”

Chikara raised his eyebrows. “First point to Fukurodani,” he murmured, then flushed a little “No ... probably not. I wanted to see you because ... because ...” His breath was laboured, and Keiji wasn’t sure why but maybe Chikara was having the same trouble he had when he’d first spied him on the doorstep.

He heaved out a breath, and met his eyes. “I like talking to you, Keij. And the thing is, it kind of felt awkward the last time we spoke. Hell, it was awkward, because I was being a self righteous idiot, and when you didn’t reply to the texts, I thought I needed to explain, but face to face and not with a screen between us, because ...” He stopped gabbling,  lifted his face, and stared at the ceiling. For all his stoicism, all his expressions that were as unreadable as ever, Keiji knew what this was costing him.

“I like talking to you,” Chikara repeated, lamely. “Coach Ukai’s banned phones and electronics on the trip, so I knew it was going to be even more awkward after a week away.”

“I did reply,” Keiji murmured. “You must have been on the train.” He sniffed and tried a smile. “I thought you were ignoring me.”

“Never.” Chikara coughed, placed the pillow at the head of the futon and sat down. “How did it go, then, with Bokuto-san, I mean?”

“Ah, it was good. He’ll be fine now.” He dropped to his bed, his ankle chinking with Chikara’s. “Hey, I met Oikawa Tooru. I received one of his serves. Not bad, huh?”

“And you’re still alive?” Chikara laughed. “I’m impressed.

“Nah, he wasn’t on full power. He wants to set for Bokuto, and Bokuto just needed to realise that I can’t be the person there for him all the time. He has other teammates. New ones.” He pressed his lips together. “Better ones.”

“You’re good, you know that. You’ll easily get a scholarship there. You’ve been to Nationals twice, and you’ll get there this year, won’t you?”

“Hmm, maybe. It’s not what I want, though.” He laughed. “The scholarship, I mean. I _do_ want to get to Nationals. Can’t have Bokuto and the other third years thinking it was all down to them.”

There was a small silence. Keiji thought about his team, and how the absence of Bokuto, however glaring had to be filled. Different team, different Ace, but the same direction, flowing forwards.

Chikara was watching him, an almost wary look on his face, so he smiled because Bokuto had once said that Akaashi’s face in repose looked scary.

“H-how are you?” Chikara asked. “After seeing him, I mean.”

He wanted to answer but it was like waiting for his toss to be hit. Watching in slow motion as Bokuto, or maybe Onaga, felt the heft of the ball on their palm and slammed it into the corner. It was that moment in between, before the blockers could get there. That moment where anything was possible, victory or capitulation.

His eye fell on the book he’d been reading. He picked it up, half an apology on his lips because he knew Chikara hated to bend the spine of a book by leaving it open.

“Bokuto was ... the forerunner,” he said, wondering if Chikara understood, but if he did or didn’t he made no show of it, so Keiji blundered on. “In this book, Charles thinks of Sebastian as the forerunner, doesn’t he? The one that showed him the way, showed him how he could love. Bokuto was like that, showing me how passionate I could become when truly involved.” He licked his lips. “In the game, nothing else. You  ... uh ... asked if he’d been my boyfriend, and the answer’s ...”  He trailed off, remembering Bokuto’s enthusiastic hugs and splashy kisses when caught up in victory, but that had been it. “No, he wasn’t. He started something in me, though. An ability to feel, perhaps. Which is rather like Charles, don’t you think?”

“Do you miss him?” Chikara’s voice was steadier now.

“Yes. I think I always will, but I can’t get swept away, can I?  I have to stop treading water, and make a plunge for the shore.”

“Are you going to explain that?”

Keiji smiled at him, and as Chikara smiled back, he was never more sure in his life. He put the book on his bedside cabinet, using a scrap of paper to mark his place, then slunk down onto the futon. He reached out, no longer trembling, for Chikara’s hand. “I think you know exactly what I mean.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Keiji and Chikara were reading is Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh.


End file.
